The Adventures of Onmund and the Dragonborn
by x Varda x
Summary: The Dragonborn chooses Nord Mage Apprentice Onmund to help her for some reason. Rejected by his family and his people all his life and feeling inadequate and eager to please, Onmund accepts. Poor Onmund...
1. The Amulet

_A/N - Just picked this game up again for the Special Edition. Forgot how much I love Onmund. He always genuinely sounds pleased to help as well as being totally hot. Not sure how pleased he actually is based on some of the things he goes through! I hope to make this a series. Stories will be based on my ideas as well as things that have actually happened in my game. Dragonborn is a female Nord. I'm a massive H/C fan so poor Onmund is going to get it (much as he does all the time in the game)_

 **The Amulet**

Onmund wished he'd never traded his amulet to the elf, Enthir. Aside from the clothes on his back and a handful of gold for the trip, it was the only thing he'd brought from home after fleeing years of rejection at the hands of his family. He was a Nord, and his proud Nord family would rather he was a warrior or hunter than a mage. He had tried hunting but the residual charge of electricity in the meat was off putting. Using fire to kill the animals had resulted in nothing but charred husks and disapproval. The wooden practice swords wielded by his kin broke through his weak wards and bruised his body, but healing spells were far more effective than ' _enduring the pain as good strong Nords should do.'_

Enthir had promised him the potion he was trading for the amulet would increase Onmund's destruction magic skills - and it had, for a time. Now the effects of the potion had worn off and Onmund was back to being an apprentice and shy one family amulet.

"What would it take for me to get it back?" Onmund asked Enthir in his room at the Mages College of Winterhold.

"All trades are final."

"But that stupid potion you gave me wore off!"

"It increased your power?"

Onmund looked down. "Yes."

"Well then you weren't misled."

Onmund's eyes shifted to his hands and felt the tingling crackle of electricity building. He could take it by force, but didn't trust that Enthir hadn't put some kind of curse on it. He was also likely to be expelled from the College if he attacked a fellow mage.

Enthir's eyes widened and he smirked nastily. "If you're _that_ desperate you could get my staff back."

Onmund let the power dissipate and looked up in question.

Enthir studied his own hands. "Although I'm not sure a _Nord_ mage would be strong enough to do it."

Onmund knew he was being goaded on but he had to have the amulet back, no matter what. "Where is it?"

"Last I knew, it was in a cave just East of Winterhold."

"I'll get your staff in exchange for my amulet." Onmund said through gritted teeth.

"Deal." Enthir smiled insincerely. "Don't get killed."

xxx

Onmund limped along the path and tried not to make a sound to alert the ice wolves nearby. He gritted his teeth and groaned while clutching his right thigh. Damn cave had been full of Necromancers! What the hell had Enthir sent him there for?! His spells hadn't touched them and only his Nordic upbringing in the cold, snowy land of Skyrim had prevented the ice spikes thrown at him from killing him instantly.

His magicka reserves depleted and his leg in agony, he'd fled and only luck had had it that the Necromancers hadn't followed him out into the freezing snowfall to finish him off.

One of the spikes had gone right through his right leg and the cold pain was spreading into his hip as he hobbled along. Squinting against the snowflakes falling around him, he thought he could see the torchlight of Winterhold in the distance. "Home sweet home," he said through gritted teeth.

"Stupid staff. Stupid Enthir." Stupid me, he added silently. He thought the potion would increase his power and make him more acceptable in the eyes of the others. "What the hell was I thinking? A Nord coming to a mage's college. Get myself killed!" Just as his family had always told him. Magic would be the death of him. "Better a death by magic than being cloven in two with an axe. Oh!" Onmund's leg finally gave up supporting him and he collapsed. The deepening snow on the path prevented further bruises from his fall.

Onmund looked up at the sky through watering eyes as he trembled in pain and cold. The biting wind cut right through his mage robes and he shivered, which only served to redouble the pain in his leg. Snow danced down, the shadow under each flake making them look like ashes against the blinding white clouds.

"Hey, you!" a voice called out.

Onmund's eyes were closing, his strength long since sapped along with his magicka.

"Hey?" the voice shouted, a little closer now.

A shadow passed overhead and Onmund blinked at the figure looking down at him. Praise the Nine! It was a Winterhold Guard. "You're a mage from the College?" the figure said, although Onmund couldn't see their face through the enclosed helmet they wore. "Can you move? I'll help you back there." The guard held out their hand.

"No." Onmund said as he was pulled to his feet and the guard pulled his arm across his shoulders to support him. He wasn't going to give Enthir the satisfaction of seeing him in this state and confirming his Nord blood made him no good as a mage. "Take me to the inn."

"Very well."

xxx

Onmund returned to awareness feeling pleasantly warm and numb.

"You're lucky I was here," a male voice said. "This is nasty magic. The cold damage had already spread to the bone."

Onmund grimaced and opened his eyes. Blurry at first, the wooden ceiling of the inn and the hooded figure of another mage came into focus.

The elf smiled at him. "There you are. I'm Nelacar."

"Onmund." He eyed the robes but didn't recognise his rescuer. "You're not from the College?"

"I was once, but that's a long time ago now."

Onmund winced as he shifted and a sharp pain shot through his leg. He looked down at himself and saw Nelacar was holding his hand just above Onmund's leg and bright golden light of the healing spell flowed out. "This should heal you up nicely. Do you think you could keep down a potion now that you're awake?"

"Yes."

Nelacar went away which gave Onmund a chance to look around the room he was in. It was a private room and the door was closed to keep out prying eyes. He sighed in relief. Nelacar helped him to sit up and handed him the potion. After he had finished, he felt the weariness washing away and strength returning to his limbs.

Handing the empty bottle back to the other mage, he asked, "Thank you for helping me. What do you want in return for this? I don't have much but I can get you some gold if you let me return to the College to pick it up."

Nelacar smiled at him kindly, "I don't need anything, but I may one day ask you to help me as I can no longer access the College."

"Okay," Onmund said in apprehension.

A female voice spoke outside the door. "There's a mage here that studies stars?"

Nelacar sighed. "Excuse me."

xxx

A few days later, Onmund was in a lesson with his fellow apprentice mages when a new recruit joined them. No one had found out about his incident but he suspected Enthir may have been able to deduce something from the time Onmund had been away and the lack of the staff in his hands when he returned.

The woman was a Nord just like Onmund and the fire in her hands felt as warm and strong as any elf magic when Onmund got close. She wore full Elven Armour which was odd but the colour matched her golden hair and bright eyes. A few days later when Onmund discovered she was the Dragonborn - Dovahkiin - of the old legends, he was even more surprised.

He didn't know what possessed him to mention the amulet to her. Something about how easy it was to talk to a fellow Nord and outsider. She got it back for him in just a few hours, looking none the worse for wear. He needed to study a lot more to get himself to her level, but she'd just proven that with enough practice, a Nord mage was as good as any other race.

He was so pleased, before he knew what he was doing he blurted, "I can help you, if you need it."

Her eyes sparkled and she accepted his offer.


	2. Hide and Fur

_A/N - Thank you for the reviews! xx_

 _The inspiration for this next one is that at least two models of fur armour seem to provide questionable *ahem* 'coverage.' At least the hide armour is a little better. Not much though... ouch._

 **Hide and Fur**

Onmund followed closely behind the Dragonborn, Freya, as she walked through the snowstorm heading out of Winterhold. Shivering and pulling his robes closer to his body to conserve what little heat he could, he asked, "Where are we going?"

She spoke without looking at him and appeared completely unfazed by the dropping temperature as nightfall approached. "Urag gro-Shub asked me to fetch some books. Hopefully they'll explain what that glowing orb thing was we found in Saarthal."

Onmund bristled, "We shouldn't have been in there disturbing our ancestors."

She turned slightly, but kept walking. "Would you rather bandits, Necromancers or any other of the numerous groups trying to kill everyone found it first?"

Onmund hung his head down and sighed in defeat. "No, but I don't like it."

They trudged onward in silence for a few minutes, Onmund barely able to see the path in front of him due to the blinding white snow and sky. He made sure he never lost sight of Freya as she set a punishing pace, occasionally jogging to increase the speed. His teeth started chattering. "Is it much further?"

Freya called to him behind her, "Just east of Whiterun."

"But that's miles away!"

Freya stopped and Onmund nearly walked into her as his legs were like blocks of ice and the muscles had long since gone on autopilot to keep him moving.

"I'm right behind you," Onmund said bravely, gritting his teeth to try to stop the chattering.

She narrowed her bright blue eyes at his quaking form then her eyes widened in shock. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realise how cold it was or that you were catching your death out here!" She came closer and vigorously rubbed his upper arms but Onmund was so cold he could only feel pressure and no warmth. "The elves sure know how to make all weather armour - I can't feel it at all!"

She drew forward the small bag hanging at her hip, opened the flap and started rummaging. "I might have something that can help."

Onmund looked on in increasing bemusement as she pulled out what looked like enough fur to account for an entire pack of wolves. At his questioning face she shrugged and said, "Enchanted bag. It still weighs a ton but everything I put in shrinks down to fit. Here..." she passed him another identical bag she'd just pulled out of... somewhere. Onmund slung it over his head and clutched the strap across his chest with numb fingers.

"Try this." She handed him one of the fur bundles and he wrapped it around his upper body. "Hmm," she frowned as he got it all tangled up and ended up having to remove his mages robes and stuff them in the bottomless bag she'd given him to get it to fit. Fur bracers, boots and a helmet followed and he pulled them on, adjusting his hunter's bow and arrows and new bag as he did so. He quickly felt the numbness receding as they started moving along the path again.

"It doesn't offer much protection," she said, "but it's better than those flimsy robes."

"Thanks."

xxx

Several hours later the snow had finally stopped and the white ground gave way to visible rocks and hardy plant life as they ventured further south. Night had long since fallen but the ball of light floating ahead of them that Freya recast every now and then kept their way lit.

Onmund was just beginning to enjoy the trip now that he could feel his extremities again when Freya stopped and Onmund did likewise. She drew her sword and shield and motioned for Onmund to keep quiet. He frowned as he looked around but couldn't see anything. The candlelight spell fizzled out, leaving them in near total darkness.

"Bandits are hunting us," she whispered. "Here, I upgraded this earlier." She passed him some hide armour. It offered better protection than the fur due to the extra thick leather straps crisscrossing his chest and back and the metal plate over his heart but left his flanks and middle completely exposed. He shivered as a cold breeze ruffled the hair on his belly.

"I've got your back," he whispered, his hands already glowing with electricity.

Then hell broke loose.

Onmund zapped two figures that came at them through the dark, easily dispatching them and they flew off crackling with blue lightning and cries of pain, making Onmund wince. His heart raced in fear and adrenaline as he searched for Freya through the gloom. He'd never had to kill anyone before and he anticipated nightmares for the foreseeable future about it.

He searched for Freya in the dark and saw her hacking away at one of the men with a gold elven sword now marred red with blood. Onmund was so transfixed in horror that he didn't notice the bandit that snuck up behind him and took out his legs. He lost his breath and concentration as he landed heavily on his back and couldn't bring his spells to bear as a mountain of a Nord man straddled him and drove a large dagger down towards his exposed upper chest. Only survival instinct and pure desperation saved Onmund as he grabbed the man's wrists and forced the knife away. He sent what little electric magic he had left through the man's wrists, making him drop the knife and roar in anger and pain.

Onmund's heart clenched in terror at the sound and he wished he could run away but he was still pinned.

"Onmund!" Freya cried and before he could do any more, she cut the Nord bandit down and he fell to the side, freeing Onmund and providing yet more nightmare inspiration.

"Still here," he said with a grimace as she grabbed his hand and hauled him back on his feet. He waited and caught his breath and calmed himself as he felt his magicka recharging while she searched the bodies for anything useful.

He had just about recovered when he heard a quiet creaking sound. Being a trained archer, he recognised the sound of a bowstring being drawn as a surviving bandit took aim at Freya where she crouched down by a body, oblivious to the danger.

Before he knew what he was doing, Onmund leapt between the archer and Freya. There was a quiet swish and something thumped him really hard in the gut. The impact was so great he was knocked off his feet.

Freya glanced up as Onmund saved her and released a wall of sound: "FUS!" that flew over Onmund where he lay and slammed into the archer, making them stagger.

Then Onmund's pain started and that was a new kind of hell. It was worse than when he first learned the fire spell and burnt himself rather than the goat, or the time he had to plough the field by hand for a week because his family couldn't afford a new horse, or the blisters on his feet after walking nonstop halfway across Skyrim to get to the College of Winterhold. He tried to gather his thoughts to channel a healing spell but the pain was too great for him to concentrate and he closed his watering eyes.

Through the haze of agony he heard Freya let loose a more human roar as a stream of fire flew out of her hand towards the bandit, engulfing them and making them shriek and fall into the ditch beside the path.

She ran to Onmund and pulled off her helmet as she fell on her knees beside him. "Onmund! No!" Golden light from her hands bathed him, washing away the pain. "I'll fix you up, just hang on."

Onmund flinched as he felt the arrow being yanked out of his midsection and she pressed her hands against the skin around the wound, channelling more waves of healing light into him.

"I'm so glad I bought this spell book from Farengar in Whiterun the other day," she muttered. "Nearly done."

Onmund felt the pain recede further and his strength returning but he was still very sore when the light faded.

"I can't keep it up, sorry." She grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet, but his legs felt like under-cooked sweetrolls and he was shaking like a leaf.

"Thanks! Not sure it was necessary though." He looked down at himself and felt at his abdomen. The only visible evidence of the injury was the fresh blood staining his skin and a throbbing ache deep inside.

"Why would you say that?"

He lifted his chin a little, "Just because I major in destruction doesn't mean I can't do healing spells."

"It's only me here, Onmund, you don't have to prove anything." She held his upper arm gently as his mouth turned down sadly and he looked at his feet. She put her hand on his chin and made him look up at her. "Who made you feel like you were worthless?"

"I..." he started.

She cut across him, "Because you're not."

"But you're the Dovahkiin. You're more important than anyone."

"No. Your life is as valuable as mine."

"Skyrim needs you. If I die, my family might hold a little party, but Skyrim will keep going."

She sighed sadly. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself to save me."

"But that archer would've killed you!"

"Maybe." She let go of him. "Let's move off the road and rest for the night. I can heal your injury some more in the morning."

Onmund opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off again. "You _will_ let me help you."

"Okay," he conceded finally, letting go of some of his stubborn Nord pride. It was going to be a long journey ahead, he thought, as she laid out some furs from her bottomless bag and helped him lie down on his side and curl around his recent injury. But right now he'd settle for at least one peaceful night of sleep before the nightmares about their recent battle started.

Fin.

 _A/N - I've spent some time trying to understand why Onmund says 'Thanks! Not sure it was necessary though' when you heal him. It's a bit of an odd thing to say when you're practically dead and drained of magicka..._


End file.
